Bless This Animal...This Bird. When a Friend Sends a Text. I'm There with Eulogy and a Proper Burial. The Older I Get, The More Important This Becomes

Simple text, really. A photo. The back patio.

"Seriously? Again?" 

This happened before. Bird meets window. 

"No, you don't need to remove it. I can have someone get it tomorrow." 

"No, I'm not letting it stay there over night. He needs a proper ceremony."

There was a welcomed 55-minutes between obligations, so I drove over to the house, singing Ava Maria the entire way. I texted my concern right back. This is what friends do. It was an emoji of me that needs more gray painted upon it.

I always think of my friend Kirsten when I see a dead animal. She always said, "Bless that animal," as we drove by roadkill in our teenage years. I admired that and think of it every time I seen something is gone. I should abridge that, as I don't have the same soul-wrenching feeling when I see a skunk or possum. I should be more empathetic.

I also think about the night when driving the boys of Syracuse from soccer practice when we almost hit a rabbit. It got away, but triggered a night of, "The first time I saw a dead body." I am so glad I listened and learned.

When I arrived, I got the little guy onto a shovel and started singing, 

I wanted to let you know, our little feathered friend,

that even though your life did end, and flying into windows is quite the trend,

We love you.

I got him onto a shovel and wrapped him in tissue, then proceeded to walk out to the nature preserve at Walnut Beach. I made Oona say a prayer, but she could only cross a heart and look to the sky as she sipped a martini and talked to her son. She wouldn't kiss him on his beak. Neither would Pam, although Pam did walk outside  in silence to be sure he'd be at peace.

That's when I startled a woman shooting photographs  on the access road. I came through the trees with the dead bird on a shovel. We were really close and she saw my eye. It's okay. I would run away, too, in absolute terror. I gave her a story. I imagine she called the police.

Then, as if I was an Olympian lacrosse player, I shuttled the little guy into the trees for his last flight. Pam prayed, "Good luck on the other side of the rainbow bridge."

And I channeled Jason Reynolds, saying, "If you can, share a feather or two. Many on the ground still need the wings."